


Cookies

by astrothsknot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrothsknot/pseuds/astrothsknot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean makes Sam cookies because he's an awesome brother</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookies

Title: Cookies  
Author: Astrothsknot  
Fandom: Supernatural  
Rating: PG, Gen, Wee!Chesters  
For Fairyd123 who wanted a recipe.

“Dean?” Came a small voice.

“Yeah Sammy?” Dean had been left in charge, Dad was off hunting a piasa.

“Can we go to the store and buy those cookies I like?” Sammy looked hopeful.

Dean checked his pockets, there wasn’t enough. “Sorry Sammy. Everything’s been spent until Dad gets back.”

“But I like those cookies, Dean!” Sam’s voice was threatened to become a wail and he’d got those damn puppy eyes on him. Dammit! He hated when Sammy did that

Dean looked through the garbage and found the packet. He went to look in the units, found pretty much the same ingredients. Flour, sugar, margarine, milk and eggs. Vanilla essence. “What the hell is vanilla essence?”

Sammy had dragged a chair over to the open unit. “It’s in that bottle.”

“I know that, Sammy. But what‘s it for?”

“It makes cookies taste like cookies?” Sammy looked thoughtful, wrinkling his forehead.

“I’ll get a bowl.” Dean rifled through more units. “There’s no bowls. There‘s a set of scales.”

“There’s a bucket,” said Sammy. “The one you used to wash the dog crap off my boots.”

“Don’t say crap, Sammy. Say something else,” Dean admonished.

“You washed the dog shit off my boots.”

“We’ll go with crap.” He peered into the bucket. “Looks clean enough.”

On the back of the flour there was a recipe for oatmeal cookies. “Sammy? Do we have oatmeal?”

“I don’t want oatmeal! It’s icky!”

“I’m going to turn it into cookies, Sammy. You don’t have to eat it.” He only wanted to make the damn cookies.

“Are you magic Dean?” Breathed Sammy.

“No, but it’s a bit like a spell book,” he picked up the flour, showed it to Sam. “See?”

“One hundred and twenty five grammes of flour?” He turned to Dean, confused. “What’s a gramme?”

“What they use in Canada. They’re weird.” Dean motioned towards the flour. “What else does it say?”

“125 grammes of oatmeal.” Sammy looked worried. “Are you sure these won’t be sloppy cookies?”

“I’m sure. What’s next?”

“75 grammes of sugar.” This was sort of muffled.

“Sam, stop eating the sugar, pour it into the scales.” Dean was mixing the oatmeal and the flour together, added the sugar when Sam decided he’d had enough. “What’s next?”

“Snenetyfivegrimamagrine.”

“What the hell? Sammy, stop eating the damn sugar, will ya!” Dean took the packet from his brother. “Seventy five grammes of margarine or -?”

“Dean!” Protested Sammy, grabbing the bag back, but Dean was still holding it. There was short tussle before Dean won out, but he pulled the bag too hard and the flour puffed over the kitchen.

“Aw, fucking hell!” Dean swore.

“It’s like snow!” Sammy giggled, dancing in it and leaving foot prints everywhere.

Dean turned back to the recipe. “Add margarine, rub into dry ingredients.”

Sam stopped dancing in the flour to peer into the bucket. “Dean, that looks gross. Are you sure it’ll turn into a cookie?”

“It’ll turn into lots of cookies, Sammy.” He peered at the recipe. “What else does it say?”

“It says you could use a food mixer to cream it if you wanted, instead of rubbing it in.”

Dean could see Sam draw breath to ask- “We ain’t got a food mixer. Be better if we had. This‘ll have to do.”

“Yneedneggormilk.”

“Sammy! Put the sugar down!” He didn’t want to stop rubbing it in. “Egg as needed to create a stiff dough.”  
Sammy got the milk from the fridge without spilling it. Maybe there was a God. Dean added it gradually, until he had a dough that Sammy could roll flat with a tin of Spaghetti-Os.

Dean greased a sheet of tin foil, ready for the oven as Sam squashed the dough. “Dean, what are we going to use to turn it in to a round?” The child asked as he read the recipe. “Will Dad be able to use them for ammo? Can cookies kill piasas?”

“God, I hope not. We’ll use a mug,” said Dean and Sammy was kept occupied for few minutes cutting out the cookies, while Dean arranged them carefully on the tinfoil. “We’ll put them in the oven, gas mark four for what? 15-20 minutes?”

“Do Canadians use minutes?” Asked Sammy. Judging by the forehead crinkle, this was of grave import.

While they waited, Dean considered what other things he could cook. “Y’know, if we changed oatmeal for chocolate and milk for an egg, and used a food mixer to cream it, we could have chocolate chip cookies. We’d have to cream it first, then put the chocolate, but everything else would be the same.”

“Can you make double biscuits?” Asked Sammy. “I like those.”

“I guess, we’d leave out the choc chips and the oatmeal, just cream it in a mixer, then when the cookies were baked, we could put icing on top and a cherry.”

“Put the jelly in the middle and squash them together!” Sammy squealed.

“That works, too,” said Dean.


End file.
